“Wait. Go back,” Blair says, “because you were not in love and then you were. Say how that went.” She wants the messy part detangled and she knows I know exactly what happened. She can wait.
Making space for my still raw stories to play and have a life –beyond me arranging for you what I think you should think of me – is a risk every single time, but, these days I’m taking it.
You know you’re in deep when you hear a voice crack so you midwife each other’s coming to grips. Holy truth, when offered, is an inexplicable gift. When I left her I knew we’d made something outside of ourselves that it would take two to carry. And that we would not drop it.
I don’t want to miss them anymore, the moments that comfort us with an otherworldly comfort that equips us to live changed for the sake of every other person in our lives. And for our own sakes.
What happens when girls who have known each other through wayward children, job changes, ludicrous mistakes, relocations, and almost born grand-babies come together around brunch as an excuse just to laugh in the presence of love, eggs, Jesus, and lipstick? We mend our souls and conquer the world.
Wouldn’t that be a good thing to know about your friends? The thing is, you do. Just picture one of them now. The last time you hung out, what was she saying that made her slap the table with both hands open and lean in, pleading, “Oh DON’T get me STARTED…”